


Butterflies Fly Away

by Enjoltaires



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1464154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjoltaires/pseuds/Enjoltaires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire would take the piss, Enjolras thinks. They all know he's only up there because he lost a bet to Courfeyrac, or as part of a bet with Courfeyrac, nobody is really sure since they won't tell anyone much about it. Enjolras is sure he'll find out once the bet is over and that he'll be disappointed when it's over something stupid.</p>
<p>or Grantaire sings at an open mic night and Enjolras realises that he's a really, really good singer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterflies Fly Away

Open-mic night in the Musain comes around on the last weekend of every month and Les Amis wouldn't miss it for the world. Enjolras himself isn't as keen on the idea, never having been much into music, but he likes the good mood it puts his friends in and the relaxed atmosphere that comes from it. Even Combeferre and Joly, the usual designated drivers, are having a drink. Everybody has forgotten work for one night and, as Courfeyrac had all but screamed at him, Enjolras' causes can wait for one night.

So they all stand around for a little while, the bar full of idle chatter and the ordering of a second, third or sixth drink. Enjolras is watching from the bar, as Grantaire sets up the mic and Feuilly plugs in a guitar just behind him. He takes a sip of his beer, still on his first of the night, when Feuilly and Grantaire nod at each other and Grantaire turns to the mic, adjusting the stand easily to be slightly higher before speaking  
"I'm going to start now, you can carry on with whatever you're doing I'll just be here in the background." he mutters it but people still hear and laugh and then there's mostly silence.

"This song is dedicated to Courfeyrac \- the one in the ridiculous fucking Topman shirt at the bar" he continues and Courfeyrac, in the aptly described 'ridiculous' blue and white paisley shirt, beams and waves gleefully to the crowd that have turned to him "he may look like an excited twelve-year-old but i promise you he's not even that cute. Not worth your time, ladies, or gentlemen for that matter." a light laughter rises throughout the small crowd and Grantaire visibly relaxes, an easy smile on his features. 

Grantaire would take the piss, Enjolras thinks. They all know he's only up there because he lost a bet to Courfeyrac, or as part of a bet with Courfeyrac, nobody is really sure since they won't tell anyone much about it. Enjolras is sure he'll find out once the bet is over and that he'll be disappointed when it's over something stupid. He leans back on the bar properly and looks to the stage with barely concealed curiosity, Courfeyrac has always insisted that he has a great voice but Grantaire, as ever, consistently disagrees. Enjolras wants to decide for himself.

Grantaire turns to Feuilly with a growing smile and they nod at each other. Knowing. 

Courfeyrac actually, and very unattractively, chokes on his drink when the song starts. Enjolras lets out a laugh - something he knows Grantaire would argue as uncharacteristic. The people in the room have stopped their conversations to listen now, all smiling and laughing a little. Feuilly is grinning and shaking his head even as he plays the oh so familiar opening chords and then Grantaire begins. 

_"I hopped off the plane at LAX with a dream and my cardigan"_

Enjolras isn't even remotely surprised by the song choice and rolls his eyes at the shit eating grin the dark-haired man on the stage is wearing and the smirk he throws at Courfeyrac who now can’t stop laughing. Though Enjolras, and everyone else, is caught at rapt attention when he starts singing properly.

_"That's when the taxi man turned on the radio-"_ 

Who knew Grantaire could really actually properly sing.

_“and the DJ song was on”_

Like really, really actually properly sing.

_“and the DJ song was on!”_  

Enjolras didn't.

He needs a sit down. 

Grantaire can't stop laughing through his words and as cute as it is, as fucking adorable as it is, it's pissing Enjolras off because he wants to hear his voice properly. Even though his somewhat drunken dramatic enactment of the lyrics is entertaining in itself, his voice is surprisingly gorgeous, and Enjolras wants to listen to it more purely, the soft tone and rough edge that is just so perfectly Grantaire. 

The crowd is clapping along and the drunker they are, the louder they're singing along too. Grantaire has been the best person of the night so far, because he's got the best voice and the best stage presence and the best grin. But Enjolras can just tell that, as far as Grantaire is concerned, the audience is excited because of his song choice, because he's not taking it seriously. He thinks he's entertaining because he's being stupid not because he's really fucking talented. 

_"The DJ plays my song and I feel alright"_  

He holds the long note while still smiling and Enjolras needs a drink right this second. It should be illegal or something, as should his grin and his laugh. A small part of Enjolras' brain is planning a campaign to just make Grantaire illegal, he reckons he could do it.

Grantaire has always had some sort of effect on Enjolras, the guy is ridiculously attractive in his own scruffy but intelligent and infuriating but amazing way but this is something else.

He's moving his hips like _yeah_ and hitting each note dead on and it’s like he's barely even trying. He's grinning so huge it's touching his eyes and  Enjolras hates everything.

He could kill everybody in the building.

He goes for a cigarette instead.

Grantaire doesn't miss it, the red jeans pushing through the fire exit at the back of the room though he doesn't let on the way his stomach sinks and his heart clenches, just glances over at Courfeyrac for a split second to smirk again. The small victories, a silver lining to the dark cloud that is Enjolras' hatred of him. They'd been better recently, too,holding decent human conversations that more often than not didn’t devolve into violent argument. Maybe he’d been over thinking it. He pretends he's not hurt by the fact Enjolras couldn't even be polite enough to stand through him singing one song. 

He needs a drink, or a cigarette. Both, he decides.

Multiple of both.

He finishes the song and the crowd sing the end of it with him, it feels amazing and he knows he should be bathing in the limelight but his mind is elsewhere. Enjolras has this way of unintentionally tugging at his heart but he can hardly blame the blonde, it's all down to his own ridiculous crush. It’s his own fault.

He gets a loud cheer from the audience, with wolf whistles courtesy of Bahorel and he pulls Feuilly unto his side to take an over-dramatic bow and they both laugh as Feuilly pulls him into a hug, patting him on the back and beaming at him.  
"Good job" he says close to Grantaire's ear "honestly amazing" Grantaire just gives him a look because it wasn’t _that_ great but he knows better than to fight with  Feuilly over these things and takes the compliment with a smile. 

When he gets back to the bar and the next person has taken the stage he's caught up in people congratulating him, patting him on the back and a barrage of compliments he wasn’t remotely ready for but his fingers are still itching for a bottle and a cigarette. He gets a drink easily, Courfeyrac pushes one into his hand while calling him a bastard and then he only needs to settle the second part. With a few weak excuses and a knowing look from Eponine he makes his escape quickly, through the same fire escape. He has a cigarette out before he's even fully out of the door and looks up to see an oh so familiar blonde looking back at him with wide eyes.

There's a moment's pause as they just look at each other and for once there’s no malice, no aggression between them and it takes those moments for them to figure out what to do without it. Grantaire moves to stand on the wall opposite Enjolras, a metre or so closer to the door as not to be directly facing him. He’s not sure why he can’t quite manage that.

"Hey" Grantaire breathes as he holds the cigarette in his lips, lighting it quickly after fetching a lighter from his pocket, making a conscious effort for his eyes not to linger on the blond. With the door shut behind him the noise of the bar has died down to a low hum and it's oddly quiet between the two of them. 

"Hey" Enjolras replies, a little belatedly, blue eyes still wide and still trained on the other man whose eyes have moved to his feet. “You were really good” it’s not what he wanted to say at all, not strong enough or personal enough but he doesn’t know what to say because his throat has gone dry at the little smile the other man just offered him.  
“Good song choice too” he says and they both laugh properly, connecting eyes and smiles and Grantaire thinks maybe things aren’t as bad as he’d first thought. They fall back into a comfortable silence, companionable even though neither has any idea what to say next, Grantaire’s eyes back in the floor and Enjolras’ on Grantaire, although there’s a distant look in his eyes.

Have his hands always been that big? Enjolras thinks, he finds himself staring at them as he rolls the cigarette between long fingers, a nervous habit. Grantaire has started talking, rambling how he does when he's nervous but Enjolras is only half listening, he just said something about Courf, but the other man's v neck t-shirt is more than a little distracting. It's showing just a little bit of a tattoo that Enjolras is trying to figure out and oh look there's Grantaire's chest that's nice and wow he doesn't think he's seen that leather jacket before but it's perfect, snug on his broad shoulders. Grantaire does kickboxing doesn’t he? and dance, Enjolras thinks, he overheard Joly talking about it a while back.

"Are you even listening to me?" Enjolras looks up, startled and stutters out an apology, shaking his head to bring himself out of his daze. Grantaire laughs though, obviously not offended and just laughing at his reaction.

So maybe Enjolras hasn't had sex in a long time and maybe that's because it's been a long time since he figured out his feelings for Grantaire and he's since spent that long time pining after him. But that doesn't affect what he does next, not at all. What he does next is an entirely thought out entirely rational thing to do and in no way influenced by the fact Grantaire can sing or is stood in front of him looking ridiculously unintentionally attractive when there’s nobody else around. No way.

Enjolras takes one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the floor and crushing it under his shoe. Grantaire watches the movement and takes a drag of his own. He’d been enjoying the time alone with Enjolras, as awkward and stilted as it was. But Enjolras doesn’t go toward the door, he moves towards Grantaire, purposeful but slow and just when Grantaire thinks he’s going to stop he keeps moving. Then, before his mind has even caught up with what’s going on Enjolras’ hands move up to his neck, cradling the sides of his face and their eyes are closing as they kiss. 

He vaguely hears the far-off clink of his bottle hitting the ground.

Hesitant at first, it’s just a press of lips but Enjolras deepens it as he presses closer to the extent that they're joint essentially at every point between the ankle and the chest, Grantaire pressed between Enjolras and the wall, hands gripping the shirt at the other man’s sides.

Neither know how long they’re there but it’s too soon that the blond pulls away, just enough to break the kiss but he’s still grinning into Grantaire’s lips, fucking grinning and lets out a giggle and if he didn't have Grantaire pinned against the wall the other man probably would have fallen over. Enjolras is glowing, he’s always been bright to Grantaire but now he's _glowing_.  His arms drop from around Grantaire’s neck only to wrap around his middle instead. He’s still grinning, genuine and beautiful as he presses his nose to Grantaire’s jaw and places another kiss there, it’s an affectionate gesture and Grantaire nearly melts.

“You should sing more” Enjolras murmurs  
“Will I always get that afterwards?” Enjolras laughs lightly and responds with a hum 

Grantaire could _die_.

He’s about to say something else, something witty and charming and irresistible that he hasn’t thought of yet when the door to the Musain opens and Courfeyrac appears in it, more drunk than they’d left him. Grantaire would jump away from Enjolras but he can’t and the other man seems to have no plan to change position any time soon, turning just his head to look at their friend.

“I told you! I knew it I _knew it!_ ” Courf babbles, a look of pure joy on his face as he holds onto the doorway for stability and Grantaire groans, shutting his eyes and letting his head rest against the wall behind him. Enjolras looks to him with confusion, eyebrows furrowed.  
“What?” he asks  
“Dude you owe me fifty bucks I _told you”_  
“What?” Enjolras aks again, firmer as Courfeyrac laughs until he falls over. Grantaire lets out a sigh and opens his eyes, smiling a little  
“Courfeyrac bet if I sang in front of you you’d make out with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics from Party in the USA by Mile Cyrus because Grantaire obviously loves her  
> I haven't written in a while, and never these characters so im sorry if it's a bit jumpy but I see potential here for a part two ~


End file.
